In his anguish new horror seized the hard Byzantian.
Was he murdered?--He, who might perhaps have been able to protect him?
"Woe is me!" groaned he.
His horror increased when he, who lay as dead, slowly raised himself and silently turned his pale, venerable face.
"Ha! do the dead rise again?" cried Zeno, shrinking back.
"Why dost thou think me dead?" asked Johannes, regarding his disturbed countenance with a soul-piercing look.
"Not I--not I--but the Tribune wished"----
"I imagined so! What seekest thou here?"
"Safety! safety!" stammered the usurer; he again thought only of the danger that was following his steps. "My slaves! All the slaves have revolted. The Judge's house is in flames."
Then a bright light as of fire shone through the open windows of the church, and arms clashed in the distance.